ut soon'z
dish yer chile tuck sick, I des tuck'n tole 'im, sez I, fer ter take
hisse'f off in de woods whar he b'long at, sez I. Yessum! I did dat! I
pities any 'oman w'at 'er ole man is fer'verlastin' stuck 'roun' de
house w'en dey's any sickness gwine on,' sez she.

"Ole Brer Wolf sot out dar on de back peazzer, en he shot one eye, he
did, en open um 'g'in, en let de smoke oozle out'n he nose. Sis B'ar,
she jolt de sick baby en swap it fum one knee ter de yuther. Dey sot dar
en talk twel bimeby der confab sorter slack up. Fus' news dey know Sis
Rabbit drap 'er knittin' en fling up 'er han's en squall out:--

"'De gracious en de goodness! Ef I ain't done come traipsin' off en lef'
my ole man money-pus, en he got sump'n' in dar w'at he won't take a
purty fer, needer! I'm dat fergitful,' sez she, 'twel hit keep me
mizerbul mighty nigh de whole time,' sez she.

"Brer Wolf, he lif' up he year en open he eye, en let de smoke oozle
out'n he nose. Sis B'ar, she jolt de sick baby wuss en wuss, en bimeby,
she up'n say, sez she:--

"'I mighty glad 't ain't me, dat I is,' sez she, 'bekaze ef I wuz ter
lef' my ole man money-pus layin' 'roun' dat a-way, he'd des nat'ally rip
up de planks in de flo', en t'ar all de bark off'n de trees,' sez she.

"Ole Miss Rabbit, she sot dar, she did, en she rock en study, en study
en rock, en she dunner w'at ter do. Ole Sis B'ar, she jolt en jolt de
baby. Ole Brer Wolf, he let de 'barker smoke oozle thoo he nose, he did,
en den he open bofe eyes en lay he pipe down. Wid dat, he crope down de
back steps en lit out fer Brer Rabbit house. Brer Wolf got gait same lak
race-hoss, en it ain't take 'im long fer ter git whar he gwine. W'en he
git ter Brer Rabbit house, he pull de latch-string en open de do', en
w'en he do dis, one er de little Rabs wake up, en he holler out:--

"'Dat you, mammy?'

"Den Brer Wolf wish he kin sing 'Bye-O-Baby,' but 'fo' he kin make
answer, de little Rab holler out 'g'in:--

"'Dat you, mammy?'

"Ole Brer Wolf know he got ter do sump'n', so he tuck'n w'isper, he
did:--

"'Sh-sh-sh! Go ter sleep, honey. De boogers'll git you!' en wid dat de
little Rab 'gun ter whimple, en he whimple hisse'f off ter sleep.

"Den w'en it seem lak de little Rabs, w'ich dey wuz mighty nigh
forty-eleven un um, is all gone ter sleep, Brer Wolf, he crope 'roun',
he did, en feel on de mantel-shelf, en feel, en feel, twel he come ter
ole Brer Rabbit money-pus. Ef he want so light wid he han